


ShisuiSaku drabble

by moor



Series: Tumblr request [23]
Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M, Non-Massacre AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 02:13:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15208589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moor/pseuds/moor
Summary: crimsonriley asked: May I request a ShisuiSakura drabble? I love them together. Thank you!





	ShisuiSaku drabble

“Home sweet Sakura’s home!” called Shisui, making Sakura laugh and even Itachi crack a smile.

Sakura held open the door for her guests as they entered her house. It was a modest, south-facing, two storey home with a basement and attic, a wrap around, covered porch that saw lots of sun, especially on each of its cedar swings, and a private yard surrounded by a thick hedge dotted with the occasional tall, comforting, broad-leafed oak to offer shade on the hottest days—like today. It was an older home, set back from the main road. Set further from the hospital and bustle of the main Konoha thoroughfares, the quiet location and privacy suited her well for her ANBU and hospital work.

“Shower?” she asked as they toed off their sweaty, dusty sandals. “Your bathroom is still being renovated, right, Shisui?”

For the last six weeks, Shisui’s own home had been undergoing renovations following some kind of accident that neither he nor Itachi had fully elaborated upon. Used to the cousins keeping private matters close, Sakura had offered the use of her own shower post-practice. It had started genuinely, turned into a joke, and now become a habit. Since becoming a member of Itachi and Shisui’s ANBU team, she had learned that things with Shisui tended toward that particular pattern. Practice, shopping, even socializing together occasionally: an inquiry would start off with a genuine offer, turn into a joke through coincidence or hazard, and then become habit.

“Yes,” answered Shisui, holding the door open for her instead. His gentlemanly manners were a display of his consideration for her rather than chauvinism. “But drinks first.”

Itachi nodded his thanks and neatly set his sandals on the mat in the main hall. Shisui did the same, closing the door after them, while barefoot, Itachi carried their gear to the back porch to set it out in the sun to dry. Sakura’s  _suiton-no-jutsu_  had been almost welcome under the blazing sun that scorched training ground six that afternoon. However, the jutsu also meant the team needed to clean and oil the various kunai, senbon, shuriken and blades that made up their ANBU arsenal, to prevent them from rusting.

Coming to Sakura’s house after practice had turned into a comfortable routine for the trio, where they would relax and maintain their weapons together post-practice. It also provided Itachi a break from his clan duties, which Sakura suspected Shisui deliberately intended.

“What would you like to drink?” asked Sakura, peeling off her armoured vest. She took it to the back porch to hang it over the railing while, with his bare feet buried in the soft grass below, Itachi set out the weapons to lean against the house to dry. He had stripped down to his training pants and wrappings, his pale skin gleaming under the hot sun. That afternoon, he even did the unthinkable and untied the elastic from his ponytail, leaving his long hair down to dry in the sun. It would have caused an uproar if Itachi, heir to the Uchiha, done so in public; but that was why they all met at Sakura’s, away from prying eyes.

“Tease!” called out Shisui, making Itachi chuckle.

Beside Sakura, Shisui pulled off his own vest and guards, and lay them out neatly beside Sakura and Itachi’s over the porch railing and laundry line. Unlike Itachi, he also removed his leg wraps, and his  _hitai-ate_ , setting the  _hitai-ate_  down neatly alongside Sakura’s. The pair of scuffed headbands shone dully, worn and proud, like their bearers.

“They match,” said Sakura.

“I thought red would complement my eyes,” said Shisui, winking at Sakura.

She shook his head at him, repeating, “Drink?”

Long immune to Itachi and Shisui’s impeccable physiques, Sakura stretched her sore muscles a moment before looking to Shisui for his answer.

“Water,” Shisui replied.

He followed Sakura back inside to her kitchen. It faced the rear porch and yard. Sakura arched a brow at Shisui, before they both cracked a grin. They were both still dripping from her  _suiton-no-jutsu_ , but  _of course_  he wanted water.

“That can be arranged,” said Sakura. “Ice?”

“No thank you.”

Yet the first thing Shisui did was reach over Sakura’s head to pull a glass from the cupboard, fill it for Sakura, passing it to her before he reached for his own. He never crowded her, but rather kept a hand on the counter at her hip to maintain a respectable distance between them.

Sakura shook her head at him, amused.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Hungry?” he asked, opening Sakura’s fridge and drawing out the leftovers from their post-training meal together from several days earlier.

As Sakura hopped up onto the counter to drink her water, she smiled as Shisui made himself at home, fixing a large platter of food for them.

“… eggs, orange juice, and sandwich meat. You’re low on all of those. Oh, and your favourite hazelnut coffee flavouring. I think that’s on sale this week at the market. I’ll add it to your shopping list,” said Shisui, popping Sakura’s plate in the microwave. He paused to take a sip of his own water before he caught sight of Sakura’s smirk.

“What?” he asked.

“You know my kitchen better than I do,” said Sakura.

Shisui leaned back against the counter beside Sakura. Crossing his bare feet in front of him, he fitted himself naturally against her side.

“I’m useful to have around,” he agreed.

The late afternoon sun limned his lithe frame with soft light, and Sakura watched the dust motes dance around him as he watched her in return. They were both covered in sweat and dirt, exhausted, and bruised, but content. It had been a very productive practice, and violent, and best of all, evenly matched, which left them both in fine spirits. They always learned from each other, challenged each other, and above all pushed each other harder to become the best versions of themselves they could be.

So why did Sakura still feel an unspoken yearning when she was around Itachi, and especially Shisui?

Shisui shot her a genuinely happy grin, then, and Sakura felt her heart trip inside her.

“What?” he asked quietly when Sakura found her gaze lingering on the tilt of his elegant eyes, the dip of his cupid’s bow, then following the path of a bead of sweat as it trailed down Shisui’s jaw and throat to his muscled chest. The occasional fold of healed skin, faded against the rest of his pale chest, was evidence of their dangerous livelihood, but also of his intense skill and will to live.

Shisui was always full of life, Sakura thought to herself.

The chakra hummed in Sakura’s veins. As Shisui continued smiling at Sakura, the hum turned into a buzz with her urge to reach out and trace Shisui’s marred skin. And the unblemished skin, too, she realized as she heard her pulse in her ears. Perhaps she wasn’t as immune to Shisui’s physical self as she’d blindly claimed.

Sakura swallowed.

“Sakura?”

Shisui’s voice was distant in Sakura’s ears over the mounting rush of her blood.

“Hm?” asked Sakura, distracted.

The warmth at Sakura’s side shifted as Shisui turned to stand in front of Sakura, leaning in close to examine her. The soft heat burned inside Sakura, now, as their eyes met.

“Hey, you get too hot?” Shisui asked with quiet concern in his voice.

Sakura struggled for words, unsure of herself. They’d been a team for months. What was happening to her?

Shisui’s shadow cloaked Sakura, closing her off from the rest of the world.

“Sakura?” he asked.

Shisui’s hand lifted to Sakura’s cheek to tilt her head up, and his touch sent a thrill through Sakura that started at her navel and spread outward through her whole body.

Oh, now she recognized the feeling.

Her eyes darkened as the fire lit low in her belly.

Something must have shown in Sakura’s face, for it took only a moment for Shisui’s dark eyes to change to something molten. Under her gradually heating gaze his Adam’s apple bobbed.

Everything around them faded in the quiet room, except for the sounds of their breathing and the feel of Shisui’s rough palm against Sakura’s pink cheek.

Then he spread his fingers, gently, softly, weaving them through Sakura’s hair, and leaned down.

Sakura closed her eyes, her heart fluttering as she felt the gentlest press of Shisui’s lips against hers, moving slowly, caressing her before pulling back again with a soft sigh. His forehead resting against hers, Shisui breathed out shakily.

“Sakura,” he whispered.

Lifting her hand to cover his at her cheek, Sakura smiled at Shisui softly.

“I…” Shisui swallowed.

Sakura looked up at Shisui, her stomach curled tight with anxiety and anticipation. She squeezed his hand in encouragement.

But in the next heartbeat, Shisui dropped his hand like he’d touched a hot poker, backing away from Sakura swiftly to plant himself in front of the microwave. It chimed at that moment, notifying them their snacks were ready.

“Just in time,” said Shisui, his back to Sakura.

She stared at him, so wounded she almost felt sick—until she heard the soft footfalls behind her from the doorway that led to the back porch.

“Are those leftovers?” asked Itachi. The door closed behind him quietly.

“Are you complaining?” Shisui retorted, teasing his cousin. “You ingrate.”

Itachi’s smile was soft as he shook his head. “Thank you,” he said, accepting the plate and potholders from Shisui.

Turning to Sakura, he offered her the food first. “We will take you grocery shopping later. Is there anything you need? We tend to eat you out of house and home.”

“Thank you, but it’s okay. I think I know what I need,” said Sakura, hopping down from the kitchen counter to place more food on the table.

When she turned to the cupboard to reach up for a glass for Itachi, she felt a warm plane against her back and saw a pale arm reach out above her. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Itachi’s dark eyes shining down at her, a gentle, fond smile on his lips. He collected the glass himself, but remained where he was once he had it, caging her in between his arms quietly against the counter.

“Hn?” he asked, a teasing lilt to his voice.

There was none of the thrill that had sung along Sakura’s skin from when Shisui had touched her so gently a moment before, but the same understanding ran through her, then. And it was followed by a slow, thin sheen of conflict.

She smiled at Itachi and arched a brow.

“Food’s getting cold, and Shisui slaved over a hot microwave for seconds to make supper for us all,” she teased.

“I’m a hard-working trophy husband, what can I say?” said Shisui, dissipating any tension before it could build.

The teasing did the trick, though, as Itachi backed away and left Sakura free to move again. She sat at the table. Itachi sat down beside her after filling his glass, while Shisui sat across from them.

The usual conversation bantered between them, and afterwards they took up their usual spots on Sakura’s porch to clean and oil their weapons.

Nothing more was said that night.

But during their meal, beneath the table, Sakura had stretched out her foot to slide alongside Shisui’s.

**THE END.**


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